


1 a.m. Fic #8

by redtribution



Series: 1 a.m. Fic [8]
Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: Angst, Don't like, F/M, Liz is pretty ooc, Lizzington - Freeform, Not Good, and Reddington doesn't monologue enough, don't like it at all, this did not turn out, too damsel in distressish, very unimpressed with this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-04-01 15:56:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4025956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redtribution/pseuds/redtribution
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liz is captured and Red saves her. This did not turn out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1 a.m. Fic #8

The first thing Liz was aware of was a throbbing pain at the back of her head. _Concussion?_ She wondered. She attempted to lift her hand to feel the spot of bother, only to realize her hands had been bound behind her back.

It was then that Liz became aware of just how dire her situation was. Her eyes flew open, adjusting quickly to the dim lighting. She was in a small, four-walled room that looked to be some sort of abandoned construction project, though it had four walls and a door. The first thing her gaze lighted upon was a man in the corner, his head bowed. He had his back to Liz, and appeared to be sorting through a duffel bag. As Liz squinted, she could make out several shiny objects being pulled from the depths of the navy-blue tote. _Knives._

Liz took a deep breath as quietly as she could, taking stock of her physical self. Her hands were bound behind her back, ankles tied to the chair she had been sat in by her captor, whoever he was. She couldn’t see any signs of physical distress, apart from several bruises, and her head was the only place giving her any pain. She couldn’t bring herself to feel bolstered by this revelation, though, considering the situation. Pushing past the throbbing pain in the back of her head, she forced herself to try and remember how she had gotten here.

Reddington and she had had an argument over something stupid, she recalled. Neither of them had gotten much sleep, and while their recreational activities overnight had put both of them in a good mood, by late afternoon they were feeling worn down. The Cabal was closing in, both of them could feel it, though Liz knew that breaching the topic was something neither of them were willing to do at the moment; not when things between the two of them were finally peaceful. The prospect of losing Reddington now…Liz shuddered, forcing herself to focus.

 

“You know I don’t need you to babysit me,” Liz said grumpily, when Reddington offered to accompany her to the grocery store. “I can handle a simple trip to the store of all things.”

Reddington stood at the doorway, his hand halfway to picking up his jacket. He sighed. “We’ve been over this, Lizzie. I’d prefer not to let you out of my sight for the moment, dear. Frankly I’m slightly offended you don’t feel the same way.”

Liz didn’t know how to respond to that, so she glossed over it. “I’m not a child.”

Reddington scoffed. “I dearly hope not. If that were the case, these last few months would have been highly illegal—not that they haven’t been, of course. Wanted fugitives and all.”

Liz wrinkled her nose. He was doing that thing again: that thing where he tried to change the topic of conversation in hopes that she wouldn’t notice and would allow him to move forward. This time, Liz was putting her foot down.

“Listen,” she said, walking past Raymond to the door of their ground-floor motel room. “I’m going to the store _by myself._ I’m not going to get murdered on the way there.”

Reddington met her gaze. “That’s not funny, Lizzie,” he said quietly.

Liz turned away, pulling open the motel room door. “I’ll be fine,” she said, leaning in and planting a quick kiss on his lips. “Stop hovering.” Without waiting for a response, she slid through the doorway and pulled the door closed behind her.

The entire walk to the store, Liz remained confident that she was safe. It was just as she was rounding a corner that she must have been knocked out, because she remembered nothing from that point on. Liz felt a slight twinge in her gut. She wished now that she had taken Raymond with her, though she would have been loath to admit it to him.

The man in the corner stood up, and Liz snapped to attention, pulled out of her reverie. She struggled against her bindings as quietly as possible, but it was no use; the man was clearly a professional. At last, he turned, and Liz got a good look at the face of her captor.

He was tall, with bright red hair, a viciously freckled nose and a long face. He might have been handsome if the circumstances had been different. The only thrill he inspired in this moment was one of fear. He approached Liz, businesslike, and Liz’s eyes fell and froze on the handgun he carried in his right hand.

Liz opened her mouth and screamed, hoping someone nearby would hear. The redhead made no move to stop her, instead opting to raise the gun to her forehead. Liz choked on her scream instantly, terrified into silence.

“Who are you?” She managed to whisper.

The man didn’t meet her eye. “I’ve been hired to kill you. Nothing personal,” he said. Then, seeming to decide that the gun wasn’t the correct aesthetic, he removed the barrel from her forehead and strode back to his duffel bag, rummaging through it once more.

Liz heard a sound in the corridor outside. The man, intent on rifling throughh is duffel, appeared to have missed it. She smiled to herself, confidence restored at once. She was ashamed of her terrified reaction to begin with. _Keep a handle on it, Keen,_ she told herself sternly. She would not be frightened now.

The man stood up, turned, and walked back to her, this time with a long carving knife in his hands. Liz flinched. _Psychopath,_ she realized.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Liz said.

The man set the carving knife to her carotid artery. With a shudder, Liz realized that he intended to cut through the skin and muscle there until she bled out.

“And why is that?” He asked conversationally, as though he were her waiter or taxi driver, not the man contracted to kill her.

“Because you’ll be killed, but not immediately,” Liz said, meeting the man’s eye, pausing until he looked into hers as well. “There’s a man standing outside that door right now,” she gestured with her head, nodding to the door behind her captor. The knife grazed against her neck, but didn’t quite draw blood. “A man who cares _deeply_ for me. If you kill me, he will kill you, and he will not make it quick.” She kept her tone deep, her eyes burning with sincerity. He needed to know she was serious.

The man raised his eyebrows, still basically expressionless, though Liz saw a hint of fear in the tension between his eyes. “Really? Who?” He sounded only mildly interested.

“My boyfriend,” Liz announced, nearly laughing at the juvenile-sounding word amidst the darkness of the scene.

“Ah,” the man said, resetting the knife as though unconcerned. “And who would that be?”

The door creaked.

“That would be me.”

The deadly voice of Raymond Reddington echoed through the small, dark room. The redhead froze, poised to cut.

“Drop the knife,” Raymond said. Liz could not see him; her captor was blocking her view. However, she heard the heavy fall of his boots on the hard floor and knew he must be approaching. “The barrel of my gun is trained on the small of your back and this very moment. Do _anything_ to upset me and I will not hesitate to pull the trigger.”

Liz’s captor rolled his eyes. The knife dropped. Slowly, the man stood up, hands in the air.

“Excellent,” Reddington said lightly. “Now, back to the wall if you wouldn’t mind; I like my meals laid out in plain sight.”

The man did as he was told. Crossing to the wall adjacent to Liz and placing his back against it. Liz looked over at Raymond, only to find that his gaze had already found her. He stared at her, his eyes boring holes in hers despite his air of ease. _He’s frightened._

“Hello dear,” Reddington said, sauntering up to Liz. “Sorry to have kept you waiting. I would have come sooner but our friend here nearly gave me the slip, despite the fact that he had no idea he was being followed. Sometime I wonder if I’m slipping with age.” He kept his gun trained on the redhead as he walked, stealing only the occasional glance in the man’s direction. Without preamble, Raymond set a hand on the back of Liz’s chair by her shoulder, tipped her back ever so slightly and planted a deep kiss on her lips. This was Raymond in his element. He loved the show.

“Excuse me?” Reddington said, pulling back from Liz and snapping his gaze to the man against the wall, who had begun to inch his way toward his bag of weapons. “I believe I told you to stay still.”

“You didn’t.” The man deadpanned.

“Really?” Reddington straightened up. “My mistake.” Gun raised, Raymond took several measured steps until he stood directly in front of Liz’s captor. Smiling, he poised the gun directly in between the man’s eyes. “I’ll say it clearly now: stay still.”

The gun fired.

Liz flinched, ears ringing at the noise. Her head throbbed with a vengeance, and she whimpered slightly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Reddington using a handkerchief to clean a spray of blood off of his face. At the sound of her whimper, though, he tossed the gun to the ground and rushed to her side. His hands flashed to her bindings, expertly disentangling Liz from the chair.

“Are you alright?” He asked, his voice low and urgent as he worked.

“Fine,” Liz said. _Embarrassed,_ she added mentally.

“It wasn’t your fault, Lizzie,” he said, guessing her thoughts as he moved to her ankles.

“I know _that,”_ Liz said. “But you were right,” she added, disgruntled. “I shouldn’t have gone alone. If it had been you, I would have wanted to go with you.”

Reddington didn’t answer. Finishing up the last of Liz’s ties, he moved his hands up to examine her legs, arms, neck, and finally cupping her face between his hands and studying her eyes.

“Are you in pain?” He asked.

“My head aches a bit. Look, let’s just get out of here,” Liz said, moving to stand up. A wave of dizziness overcame her at once, and she stumbled slightly. Raymond stood and grasped her shoulder, steadying her. “Might have a concussion,” Liz mumbled. She glanced up to see Reddington’s brows furrowed in worry. He masked over the expression as soon as she caught site of it.

Reddington nodded. “Let’s get you home,” he said quietly. That always concerned Liz; when he spoke quietly. It was his default when he was afraid.

“Wait,” Liz said, stopping him as he moved to leave. “How did you know I’d been taken?”

Reddington raised his eyebrows. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out a plain black wallet. “I went after you,” he said. “You forgot your wallet.”


End file.
